


You Give Me Peace in the Middle of the Storm

by luulapants



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward First Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Best Friends, Explicit Consent, First Time, Friends With Benefits, John Legend's romantic musical stylings, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Stiles Stilinski, Platonic Sex, Pretty much the most awkward sex ever, Smut, but also kinda sweet?, but extenuating circumstances making the sex necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25797973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luulapants/pseuds/luulapants
Summary: Stiles burst into Scott’s room, sliding across the hardwood floor, and said, “Scott, I need to ask you for something, but you have to promise me you won’t get weird about it, okay?”Scott was sitting his bed, his world history textbook spread out in front of him. “Sure,” he agreed, brows furrowing. “What is it?”“I need you to fuck me.”---Someone is killing virgins, so Stiles asks his best friend to do him a solid and help get him off the sacrificial menu. It's definitely going to get weird.
Relationships: Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 46
Kudos: 324





	You Give Me Peace in the Middle of the Storm

Stiles burst into Scott’s room, sliding across the hardwood floor, and said, “Scott, I need to ask you for something, but you have to _promise me_ you won’t get weird about it, okay?”

Scott was sitting his bed, his world history textbook spread out in front of him. “Sure,” he agreed, brows furrowing. “What is it?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

Silence hung between them for a long, baffled moment. Scott slowly opened his mouth. He closed it. Then, after another moment said in a weak deadpan, “No, Stiles, why would you think I’d be weird about that? That’s a totally normal question.”

“I’m serious!” Stiles hissed. He closed the bedroom door behind him, though he knew Melissa was probably on call for a while longer. He had called Scott on the way over to explain his discovery about Heather and the other victims, but the full implications hadn’t hit him until after he hung up. “Someone is killing virgins, and I don’t exactly have people lining up around the block to get a piece of _this_.” He made a jerky, frenetic gesture to his entire being. “So, if you’re cool with it, I am asking you to do me a solid.”

Scott’s eyebrows seemed determined to disappear into his hair.

“Come on, you pitch, I catch!” Stiles insisted, rattling off the sales pitch he’d thought up on his drive from the hospital. “I’ll do everything! All you have to do is lay there and have a boner.”

Scott cringed. “Man, are you really serious? Come on, wouldn’t that get… I mean, it’d get really weird, wouldn’t it? You’re my best friend.”

At the first sign of reluctance on Scott’s face, Stiles deflated, collapsing into his desk chair. “No. I dunno. Maybe. Probably. _Fuck!_ ” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Forget I asked. Forget I said anything. I’ll find someone else.”

Closing his book and shoving it to the end of the bed, Scott scooted closer. “Who?”

“I dunno. I doubt I’m gonna have any luck with the ladies. Maybe Danny?”

“Danny’s dating Ethan.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Stiles grumbled, scowling. “You think they’d both do me?”

“Dude!”

Stiles groaned, slouching down in the chair dramatically. “I’ll just find some rando, then. I mean, it’s not like I need it to be romantic or anything, you know? I don’t need someone to hold my hand and make sweet love to me to the musical stylings of Marvin Gaye. I just want it...” He made a shooing motion as if he could banish the virginity through force of will. “I want it _done_.”

“Okay,” Scott said.

“Okay,” Stiles sighed. “Okay, yeah, maybe I can just swing on over to The Jungle, shake my groove thang, see if any of the creepy fish are biting.”

Scott scooted forward until he was sitting on the edge of his bed. “No, I mean _okay_ , Stiles. I’ll do it.”

Stiles sat up straight, face exploding into a picture of shock. “What! No, no, Scotty, you already said you don’t wanna do it. It’s fine. Me coming in here shouting about how I need to lose my virginity so I don’t get ritually sacrificed doesn’t exactly scream consent, and consent is, like, _so important_.”

“It is,” Scott cut in, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “and you feeling like you have to have sex or you’ll get ritually sacrificed doesn’t scream consent either.” Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but before he got the chance, Scott hit him with the full, soulful puppy-dog eyes. “If you’re so freaked out you’re thinking about going and finding some stranger… I mean, I’d rather you do it with someone you trust.”

Stiles’s best friend was the literal sweetest person on this planet. He melted a little, leaning forward to match Scott’s posture. “You said it would be weird...”

Scott laughed. “Yeah, it probably will be. Whatever, dude. It’ll be weird, but at least you know I’m not gonna be a jerk to you about it or, like, hurt you or something.” His face broke into a wide smile, the voltage of which could probably power a small city. “I’ll even put on Marvin Gaye if you want.”

Caving in to his own laughter, Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck and hummed. “You know? I might be getting more of a John Legend vibe from us. What do you think?”

Scooting back, Scott grabbed his phone off the bed and tapped at it for a few seconds before it erupted into a soulful piano solo – John Legend. Scott held his arms out wide. “Alright?”

Stiles gaped at him, because, sure, this was a matter of some urgency, but he honestly hadn’t been expecting… “ _Now_?” he asked. “Like, right now?”

Scott glanced around the room as if to point out that they were, in fact, alone in a bedroom. “What, did you want to wait until you get kidnapped by the ritual sacrificer?”

“No, no!” Stiles insisted. “I just – I don’t know if we’re, like, _prepared_?”

“I have condoms and lube,” Scott assured him.

“Yeah, okay, but there’s like...” Stiles felt his face heat. “There’s some, y’know _preparations_ that have to go on in the...” He waved a hand toward his nethers. “…in the butt region.”

Scott snorted and got up off his bed. “Alright, go use the shower, then.” He opened the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube. He tossed it to Stiles, who almost dropped it because, well, there was _lube_ on it. “Take your time. My mom’s working late. John and I will be here when you’re done.”

And that was how Stiles found himself standing naked in the McCalls’ bathroom, frantically googling how to clean oneself for anal sex. He didn’t have an enema or bulb or any of the other supplies the internet suggested. One website advised defiling the sanctity of the McCall’s shower head hose, which was a hard ‘no.’ In the end, the opted for just stretching himself out and washing _really_ thoroughly with his fingers.

“I don’t know if I did it right!” he announced as he paraded back into Scott’s room in a towel. He set the lube back on the nightstand.

Scott was back to his history textbook, John Legend still playing. He glanced up and lifted an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were an expert on touching yourself.”

“Har har, you’re hilarious. I’m just saying, if there is anything gross going on down there, you are forbidden from acknowledging it and _especially_ forbidden from ever telling me about it. Deal?”

“Deal.” Scott knocked his book onto the floor, then got up and tugged the comforter down to the bottom of the bed. “Um, so how do you wanna…?”

Right. Logistics. Stiles looked down at his own bare, lanky paleness, then up at Scott’s t-shirt and jeans. “Uh, maybe start with less clothes?” he suggested, then quickly added, “For you, I mean. I’m pretty close to goal over here.”

Scott nodded, made an abortive move to turn his back to Stiles, then seemed to think better of it. He stripped off his shirt, then froze with it still around his forearms. “Sorry, did you mean – I mean, I probably don’t need to take my shirt off? You don’t need...” He freed one arm of his shirt and gestured at his chest. “You just need...” He looked down at his groin.

“No, no!” Stiles insisted. “Shirt off is good. I mean, if I’m gonna be naked, you should be naked. Naked reciprocity. Equal opportunity nudity. Mi naked es su naked.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing the nervous babbling thing.”

Stiles scoffed. “Well, yeah, we’re about to do the dirty. Sue me if I’m a little anxious.”

Scott nodded, dropped his shirt, then shucked his pants with a utilitarian efficiency that made Stiles all the more aware of the lack of an erection under them. Fuck, _neither_ of them were even a little hard.

The John Legend playlist started on a jazzy, soulful number.

“Um, are you even gonna be able to...” Stiles cringed. “...you know, get it up?”

Looking down at his boxer-clad crotch, then back up at Stiles, then back down at his crotch, Scott frowned. “Um, yeah, I think if you… I mean, if we give it a little something to get started with?” When Stiles didn’t get it after a moment, Scott made a little jerk-off motion.

“Right!” Stiles cried with a manic attempt at eagerness. “Right-o, got it. Yeah, why don’t you just sit down right there...” He came closer and shooed Scott back onto the bed, where he settled against the pillows. Stiles interlaced his fingers and bent them back to crack them. “And we’ll just try a little, y’know, a little manual stimulation. A little elbow grease. A bit of –”

“Dude.”

“Hmm?”

“You have _got_ to stop that.”

Stiles took a deep breath and got onto the end of the bed. “Right.” He crawled up to kneel between Scott’s legs and held his hand out. “Okay. Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna touch your dick now.”

Scott gave him a grave nod. “Okay.”

His hand withdrew. “Well, not if you look like _that_ about it!”

“Like what!” Scott squawked. “This is just my face. This is my about-to-get-my-dick-touched face!”

Stiles blew out a noisy breath and looked away. “Poor Allison,” he murmured.

A pillow hit him in the back of the head, sending him sprawling onto the bed next to Scott with a squawk of indignation. When he rolled back over, it was to the sight of Scott wriggling out of his boxers, a little smirk hiding in his cheek. “I’ll just do it, okay?” Scott said, and just like that he was wrapping a hand around his dick.

Stiles propped himself up on his elbow, a little startled at how close his face was to Scott’s dick. He’d seen it before, sure. They took baths together as kids, and they had changed in front of one another their whole lives. He’d never seen it in action before, though. It was sort of like seeing a teacher outside of school. Sure, he _knew_ it was a fully functional dick that he touched and that got hard, but bearing witness to it was different from simply knowing.

“I can,” Stiles offered, shifting closer. He reached out, then paused. “I mean, if you want me to? Or do you prefer…?” He nodded at Scott’s hand and now half-hard dick.

Scott looked down at him, lower lip caught between his teeth. He nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

He wrapped his hand on top of Scott’s, just sort of feeling the pace and the motion of his strokes until Scott pulled his hand away and left Stiles to mimic it on his own. The angle wasn’t the greatest, but he heard a sharp intake of breath above him, and when he looked up, Scott’s eyes were squeezed shut. “Good?” he asked.

A quick nod. “Good.”

Feeling bolder, Stiles shifted over on the bed so he was between Scott’s legs again, but didn’t push up from lying down. “I’m gonna...” he said, and then dragged his tongue over the head. Scott let out a strangled noise above him, his hands going to his sides to clench in the sheets.

Stiles took the tip into his mouth and sucked, careful to keep his teeth out of the way. Then he pulled off and said, “Okay, I haven’t done this before, so I’m definitely going to want constructive feedback later, but for the time being, I want you to act like I’m doing it perfectly, okay?”

Scott laughed, but it was a tense, breathy thing. “There’s usually less talking,” he offered.

“Feedback _later_ ,” Stiles repeated, then went back to sucking on the head. He got about half of it in his mouth before running into logistical hurdles – like not having any mouth left – but Scott didn’t seem to be unhappy with his work, so Stiles just stuck with that. He let his hand do the rest and wander down to rub Scott’s balls. Stiles found himself rocking his hips against the bed for friction, his own dick starting to pay attention to the situation.

Before too long, a frantic hand was tapping at his shoulder. “Stiles,” Scott hissed urgently.

Stiles pulled back and looked up to see Scott’s face flushed and a little bit dumber looking than usual.

“If we’re gonna… you know, do the rest? You should stop.”

“Yeah, good call,” Stiles agreed, sitting up. He hesitated, glancing down at the towel still fixed around his waist, though a bit looser than before. Swallowing heavily, he tugged it off.

Scott licked his lips. “So, are you, like, ready?”

“Uh,” Stiles said, his voice coming out a little higher than he intended. “I should probably – I fingered myself in the shower, but there’s been some nervous clenching since then, so I should probably...” He thought about just reaching behind himself and doing it while facing Scott, but that seemed like the weirdest of all possible options. Instead, he flopped onto his back on the bed beside Scott, knees up, and reached between his legs. “Pass the lube, dude?”

Looking faintly shell-shocked, Scott did as he asked.

Stiles squirted some lube onto his fingers, rubbed them together, then pressed them to his entrance, brows pulling together in concentration.

“Is it weird if I watch?” Scott asked.

Stiles huffed. “It was weird for me to suck your dick, but we did that anyway. Go crazy.”

Scott shifted down the bed until he was kneeling in the space between Stiles’s legs. Stiles had two fingers pumping into himself and pressed a third in while Scott watched. “Does it hurt?”

“Mm, no,” Stiles said, shaking his head. His dick was filling out, pressed against his stomach. “Feels a little weird at first, but once you get used to it, it’s good.”

A hesitant hand settled onto the inside of his knee. Scott’s eyes were fixed on his asshole, alight with curiosity and maybe a little bit of arousal. Stiles hoped arousal, if their sex was going to be any level of successful. “Do you want me to do it?” Scott asked.

“To what? Finger me?” Stiles asked, not even trying to hide the surprise from his tone.

Scott shrugged a shoulder, sheepish. “You sucked my dick.”

Stiles tipped his head to the side, fingers stilling. “I did,” he conceded. He pulled his fingers out and reached for the lube, passing it to Scott. “Warm it up first,” he instructed.

Scott nodded with that same grim determination he’d showed before, but this time Stiles only wanted to laugh at its absurdity. Scott dutifully rubbed the lube on his fingers to warm it, then reached between Stiles’s legs, just resting the point of one finger against his hole.

John Legend crooned about slow dancing.

“Scott?”

“You promise this isn’t going to hurt you?” Scott asked.

Stiles did laugh at that. “Promise, buddy.”

Letting out a slow breath, Scott eased a finger into him, looking startled by how easily it slipped inside.

“Come on, I was using three,” Stiles reminded him. “Our fingers are about the same size.”

Scott’s finger slipped back out and returned with two more, pressing in with a stretch that had Stiles thinking that maybe Scott’s fingers were just a little thicker than his own. A little whimper escaped his throat, and Scott’s head snapped up, eyes finding his with a hint of desperation. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, voice a little shaky. “Really okay.” He closed his eyes and reached down to wrap a hand around his dick, not really stroking, just needing the stimulation. “Fuck, move them.”

They drew back, then pressed back inside at an agonizing pace, Scott’s fingers pressing experimentally at his insides. Stiles didn’t even think he was looking for his prostate, was just curious at how it felt, but he found it by accident anyway.

“ _Theretherethere_ ,” Stiles gasped, eyes flying open.

“What?” Scott asked, gaping at him. Then, as realization set in, he looked positively _elated_. “Good? It’s good right there?” He curled his fingers again, wringing a strangled moan from Stiles’s throat.

Stiles huffed. “Don’t look so – oh _fuck_ – so full of yourself.”

“Why not?” Scott demanded, grinning. “I’m _awesome_ at this.”

Laughing, Stiles rocked down against his fingers. “You’re like _maybe_ as good at this as I am at sucking dick,” he insisted.

Scott snorted. “No way. I’m way better at this.”

“You know, it’s rude to disrespect a man when you have your fingers inside him.”

“Can I fuck you now?”

The question came out so suddenly, it seemed to take them both by surprise, Scott gaping as if not quite believing that he had said it. Stiles opened his mouth to answer just as the fingers inside of him gave a little twitch, so all that came out was a graceless, “Nnngah.” He nodded quickly as he recovered his brain cells enough to babble out, “Yeah. Yes. Clear for take off. Make with the penetration. Take us to pound town. Time for the –”

“I’m gonna get the condom now,” Scott announced. He pulled his fingers out.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Stiles agreed weakly.

Scott went to his dresser, fishing the condom out of the bottom of his sock drawer while Stiles lay naked, spread out on his best friend’s bed while John Legend’s voice drifted up from Scott’s phone on the nightstand. As if this was a totally normal thing for them to be doing. Desperate to stave off the resurgence of awkwardness, Stiles blurted, “What size?” God, why did his voice keep _squeaking_ like that?

Startled, Scott looked up at him, his hands poised to tear the condom open.

“It’s just, I never really thought about there being sizes before,” Stiles scrambled to explain, “and I don’t really know how you figure out what size you should wear – like, is there a measurement or a chart or something or –”

“Just regular,” Scott cut in, looking faintly amused. He held the condom aloft in demonstration, a blue wrapper with the Trojan logo on it. “Size doesn’t actually matter that much, I don’t think. As long as it’s not, like, cutting off the circulation or slipping off. And they test these things with like five gallons of water in them, so.” He shrugged. “Most of them don’t even have sizes on them. The extra-large ones are mostly for douchebags.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Regular. Yeah, you seem… I mean, you seem regular.”

Scott snorted. “Thanks.” He opened the condom and slipped it on before coming back to the bed. He paused at the end. “You’re really sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. He spread his legs to make room. “Sex me.”

“You know,” Scott mused as he crawled up the bed, “I’m actually glad you’re getting all of this weirdness out of your system before you have sex with someone you want to date.”

“Thanks, buddy. That’s real sweet of you to say.”

Scott paused between Stiles’s legs, made an abortive move closer, then frowned. “Do you wanna do it like this? Face-to-face? It’s just, I think it might be a little easier… just, like, position-wise...”

“You don’t want to gaze into my beautiful brown eyes while we make sweet love to John Legend?” Stiles asked, feigning offense.

“Dude, roll over,” Scott laughed.

“Bossy,” Stiles huffed. He did as he was told, getting onto his elbows and knees. “Am I allowed to make a doggy style joke?”

A hand slid over the curve of his ass, fingers pressing to his hole again. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, I’m thinking one,” Stiles declared. “For the record.”

“Noted.” Behind him, he heard the squelch of the lube, and then the head of Scott’s dick was pressed against his hole. “Okay, like… relax. This is the part where you relax,” Scott advised.

Stiles gave him a thumbs up and thought frantically about relaxation.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Glaring at Scott over his shoulder, Stiles snapped, “Alright, well, your expectations that I relax are really stressing me out, okay?”

Scott chewed on his lip, face twisted in thought for a moment. Then he reached down and wrapped a hand around Stiles’s dick.

Stiles gasped, his face dropping down against the sheets as Scott stroked him. Then, while he was still distracted, Scott started to push in. It felt big at first, an uncomfortable stretching and pressure that warred with the sensation of Scott’s hand. Scott’s breathing became heavier, punctuated with little bit-off grunts.

“This is… really different,” Scott said, strained.

“You’re telling me,” Stiles mumbled into the sheets.

“Does it hurt?” The hand around his dick moved away, closed around his waist, and Stiles felt the odd tingle of werewolf mojo, barely a tickle.

“Not really,” Stiles assured him. “Just weird. I think if you try moving? Like, just a little...” He decided to take the initiative himself, shifting forward and then back onto Scott.

They swore together in unison.

“Yeah, yep, more of that,” Stiles decided. He pushed up onto his hands and started to rock his hips in small, rolling motions. Scott started to move in counterpoint, and the drag of his dick inside of Stiles sent sparks of pleasure up his spine.

His attention scattered from the fullness inside of him, Scott’s hands on his hips, to the heavy sound of breathing and muttered curses, the slap of skin against skin, the creak of the bed below them. John fucking Legend singing,

“ _When the storm's outside  
'Cause we're in love I know  
It'll be alright  
Alright it's alright.”_

Stiles was really regretting the John Legend, truth be told.

“I’m close,” Scott groaned.

“Touch me,” Stiles panted, pleaded. “Jerk me off.”

Scott’s hand was on him in a second, though it caused him to shift forward until his chest was pressed all along Stiles’s back, his breath at the back of Stiles’s neck. He jerked Stiles in sharp, efficient little twists of his wrist, matching the quickening snap of his hips.

“Yes yes yes,” Stiles hissed, the pleasure slowly tipping over the edge until he felt himself shaking, coming onto the sheets with a low groan.

He batted Scott’s hand away when he got oversensitive and went lax beneath his thrusts. Scott was whining, face pressed against Stiles’s shoulder blade. Then, with a sharp gasp, he stilled, went taught. A few seconds later, he pulled out and moved away.

Stiles flopped onto his back, staring up as Scott removed the condom with shaking hands. “Holy shit,” he panted.

Scott just nodded, looking dazed as he looked across the room at his wastebasket. He tied the condom and set it on the end of the bed.

Stiles wasn’t a virgin anymore. He gaped up at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around the idea.

“You okay?” Scott asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, and he was. He was definitely okay about this whole thing, but his brain had some serious conceptual rearranging to do.

“Do you wanna, like...” Scott trailed off, and when Stiles looked over at him, he was cringing. “We can cuddle, if you want?”

Stiles turned his head to the side to face him fully. “That’s really sweet, Scotty,” he said. “Yeah, I’d like for you to stroke my hair for at least an hour, and once we’re done with that, make an honest man of me and propose. I’m thinking periwinkle for the wedding colors. Hey, turn up the John, Legend, would you?

Scott rolled his eyes. “Good to know the sarcasm and the virginity weren’t intrinsically linked.”

“No, I’m serious,” Stiles continued in the same tone, stretching out long and feeling the faint ache in his arms and hips. “I’m feeling very sensitive right now. I might tear up.”

“You’re an asshole,” Scott laughed. He got off the bed and snagged the box of tissues off his nightstand. He took a couple for himself before chucking the whole box at Stiles’s stomach. “Here, in case you cry or want to wipe up the lube or something.” Scott picked up his phone, and the music stopped. Stiles didn’t think he’d ever be able to listen to John Legend again.

He shifted to the side and cringed. “Ugh, your sheets are gross, dude.” Stiles started mopping himself up with the tissues.

“Yeah, you’re so helping me do laundry before my mom gets home.” Scott tugged on a pair of shorts, then threw away his tissues and the condom.

So Stiles got up. Got dressed. He and Scott stripped the bed and carried the sheets down to the laundry room, then made pizza rolls and popcorn while they waited for the wash cycle. With every moment of normalcy, Stiles felt himself relax a little more.

Nothing had changed.

Scott still hogged the remote, and when Stiles tried to wrestle it out of his hand, there was no tension, no panic that the horseplay would suddenly read as sexual.

They ended up sacked out on the couch until late, the room dark except for the glow of the TV. Stiles had his toes tucked under Scott’s thigh, a throw pillow hugged to his chest. Scott squeezed his ankle, pulling his attention away from the TV.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked.

Stiles startled, having almost forgotten about the sex. “Oh. Um, I’m fine, dude. Seriously, no regrets here. Not even sore.”

He could only see part of Scott’s face in flashes of light from the TV, his expression soft. “I mean about Heather,” he said.

His stomach clenched as he remembered how she looked there on the table. How _was_ he feeling about that? Stiles hugged the pillow tighter. “You know, she wanted us to lose our virginity to each other? Because we’ve known each other so long and trust each other.”

The hand around his ankle squeezed again. After a long moment, Scott said, “I think she would be glad, then, that it was still with a friend. Still with someone you trust.”

Stiles let his lips drift into a smile, but pressed it to the pillow. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I am, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from John Legend's _Refuge_.
> 
> Comments are love, so feel free to leave one! You can also come visit me on [tumblr](https://luulapants.tumblr.com/).


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